


Morning of the Dark Moon

by Svengali_Khan



Series: Morning of the Dark Moon [1]
Category: Sterek - Fandom, teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Conflict of Interests, Conflicted Scott, Consensual, Cuddling & Snuggling, M/M, Male Friendship, Male Homosexuality, Male Slash, Naked Cuddling, Naked Derek, Nudity, Parallel Universes, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Stiles-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-06 14:33:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6757966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Svengali_Khan/pseuds/Svengali_Khan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles wakes up to a pounding on his door and in his head. As snow falls on Beacon Hills, a haze falls on his memories. What happened? Where is he? Who is he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> * Contains male-on-male sexiness (not sex), some consensual male-on-male activities between someone (Derek) well over 18 and someone (Stiles) not quite 18. You have been warned! *

Morning brought the dull grayish-white realization of two things. One, it was very cold in the Stilinski house. Two, there was no reason it should have been cold unless...

"Snow," Stiles said, looking out of the window from under a blanket. "Wonderful. Now, the burning question is, will I have to go to school or will--"

A hard knock on the door to his bedroom interrupted whatever else he might have said. Rolling onto his back, he closed his eyes, knowing that whatever he might have said to the knocking would not have stopped the man on the other side from coming in.

"I know you're awake. I need you to get up, get some clothes on."

Propping up on his arms, the sheet falling away from his bare chest, Stiles opened one eye to see his father wearing a very serious face with his sheriff's uniform.

"Come on, it looks like Hoth outside! There's no way we're having school today."

"The cancellation came through late last night," the man said, hands still on his hips. "Something you would have known, if you were home for me to tell you."

Sliding into his memory, penetrating the haze of his morning mind, events from the previous night came back to him. Sitting up, he realized he was naked under the sheet. That's why it was so cold. Running a hand through his hair, he didn't feel any glass, no pieces of wood or bits of plaster so he must have taken a shower before going to bed. Raising his legs, the sheet dipped between his knees. Flexing his feet, he felt no cuts or bruises on the bottoms, meaning he didn't walk away. Was he carried?

"Now, Stiles. Clothes. On your body."

"Right," the boy nodded. "I'm starting to remember clothes. I had some of those last night, when I left. I'm not sure where they are right now, though, but I have others in my closet, don't I?"

"Not today. I'm not in the mood for sarcasm or snark. You and I need to have a long talk about last night and only one of us will leave the conversation in a less grounded state."

"Grounded? For what?"

"You sure you want to do this now?"

"It'll save you the trouble of having to strip me down to humiliate me before the torture," Stiles managed a smile as he opened his other eye and let his vision clear. "Besides, it's not like you haven't seen all of this before. You did change my diapers...didn't you?"

"This is no time for jokes. This is not a laughing matter. I sent a patrol car over to check on you when the snow started, I know how the jeep gets in cold weather. They came back to me, told me you weren't here so I called. Your phone--"

"I lost it," Stiles recounted, folding his legs and sitting up. "I had it when you called but...something happened, there was a loud bang and Scott..."

"His mother called this morning. She called him at around the same time and he didn't answer, either."

"He couldn't, his phone wasn't getting any reception. There was too much lead, I think. It's a little hazy, like those dream sequences in movies where they're trying to be all secretive but tell you something. Remember the time when we found Derek in Mexico in the town destroyed by an earthquake?"

"The time you told me you'd been camping and it turns out you crossed the border? Yeah, it sounds familiar." The sheriff fought the urge to yell. "Did you go back to Mexico?"

"If I say yes, will you be less mad?" Stiles swung around to the side of the bed, taking the sheet with him. "Will I be any less grounded?"

"The grounding is because you lied to me. How long the grounding will be depends on where you were when you told me you'd be home."

Holding the sheet, Stiles stood up and ran his free hand through his hair again. Swallowing, he gave his father a once over before meeting the man's gaze. He swallowed again and tried to wrap the sheet around himself with just one hand. The other hand was out in front of him, in hopes he could prevent his father from charging him after the next few words left his mouth.

"We didn't have a choice. Liam, Malia and I all had to go and save Scott," Still holding his hand up, he took a step forward. "It got ugly. Peter..."

"Hale? Peter Hale? He was involved in all this?"

"I'm still not clear on the details but he tried to kill Scott. Kira and Malia..."

Grayness faded in his mind and Stiles saw the broken pieces of the temple, saw Peter hurl the wooden bench at Liam, heard it splinter on the column. The column was too weak and Peter didn't stop with just a bench. He wanted to hurt Scott in a way he'd never return from. Looking at his father, Stiles felt the first tear fall, a hot streak of pain down his cheek. The firefight, the bullets, Kira's sword, like flashes of light behind his eyes, he remembered.

"What happened, Stiles? What about Kira and Malia?"

"Kate got away from Chris. She killed Braedon before Parrish could stop her. Peter and Scott were fighting when she busted in. Kira and Malia tried to stop her...she killed them, too."

"What about Scott? What happened to him?"

Through a mental haze and continuing tears, Stiles recounted a strange tale of a large, black wolf with blue eyes dragging them out of a burning building, of Peter having a change of heart and lunging at Kate. His father moved across the room in time to catch his son before Stiles could miss the edge of the bed. They looked at one another.

"Derek...he and Peter took Scott to the hospital," Stiles remembered.

"Beacon Hills? Here?"

"No...just outside of the city. We were trying to get him here, back to his mom, but he was losing too much blood so we stopped at the closest one."

"Who's with him, Stiles?"

"Peter. He signed the admissions forms...as Scott's dad."

"How did you get home?"

"Derek," the younger male answered without hesitation. "I didn't want to leave Scott but he carried me out of the hospital, told me I'd have to tell his mom but when I got in, I was so tired..."

Looking around, the sheriff pulled his son into his arms. Something about this wasn't adding up and it left him feeling strange. Holding Stiles' bare body, he ran his hands along the length of the boy's back, searching for scratches, bruises, anything indicating his son might have been hurt. Finding none, he settled his hands in the center of his back and gave the room a once-over. No dirty clothes but there were scatterings of dirt on the window sill. That part of the story was consistent.

"I left Peter with Scott after he tried to kill him," Stiles whispered, clutching his father. "I never should have left him. I should have called his mom!"

Easing his son onto the edge of his bed, the sheriff picked up Stiles' phone and held it up, screen out. "Any naked selfies I need to avoid?"

Stiles shook his head. The man turned it back and called up the Contacts list. Hitting the one marked "Parental McCall", he waited until the woman on the other end answered.

"Melissa, it's sheriff Stilinski. Hold on...yes, we've found him. He's at..."

"Virginia Mercy," Stiles said, wiping his eyes. "Room two forty three."

Conveying the information, the man finished the call and replaced the phone. With his hands on his hips, he thought about how best to handle this turn in the situation. There would be a mountain of paperwork over this one but he could handle paperwork. Distraught teenagers and worried parents were the major issues, here.

"Son, stay in, today. Get some rest. I'll be back at noon and we'll drive over to Virginia Mercy."

Falling over, onto his side, Stiles drew his knees in toward his chest. Memories of what happened swirled around in his mind, punctuated by snapping wood, growls, snarls and screams. His father's hand on his shoulder eased the tension in his body and he was glad it wasn't followed by more questions. He didn't know where Liam was or what happened to him. Malia and Kira's families must be going crazy, like Scott's mother.

"Be here when I come home, Stiles. No fooling, no sneaking out. We clear?"

"Like a paddle command," the boy said, drawing his pillow under his head. "I'll be here."

With a final look at his son's smooth shoulders and unmarked body, the sheriff left the room, closing the door after himself. Already dialing his phone, he walked downstairs. Stepping out, into the cold morning, he paused with his hand still on the front door.

"Beacon Hills Police Department," the officer on the other end of the phone line said.

"This is the sheriff," he said. "Is Parrish in, yet?"

"No, sir. He's not called, either. Should I send someone over to his residence?"

"I'm on my way in, now, I'll go over, myself."

Snow crunched under his feet as he walked around to the side of his house, sliding his phone into his pocket. Footprints in the fresh white powder confirmed Stiles' story but if he'd gone through the hell he described, why were there no cuts, bruises or other wounds on the boy's body? He was flawless, aside from the normal scrapes he got from Lacrosse. Something about all of this was not making sense. He might have been a police officer but mysteries bothered him and in this town, mystery was a way of life for many of its inhabitants. With a frustrated shake of his head, the man went to his large police vehicle and pulled out of his driveway. Once on the road, he gave his house another look.

"What aren't you telling me and why do you feel like you have to lie to me?"

Refocusing on the road, he turned the vehicle toward town and began to drive. Hitting the console phone, he flipped the speaker feature on and waited for the dispatcher to answer the call. When she did, he couldn't help but smile at the pleasantness in her voice.

"Lydia, this is the sheriff, could you look at the logs last night and tell me if Parrish checked in?"

"Sure, sheriff, just one second," came the response. "Looks like the last time he checked in was day before, at the end of his shift. Was he supposed to check in last night?"

"I thought he might have been covering someone else's shift, is all. On a personal note, have you talked with Kira or Malia in the last twenty-four hours?"

"Kira?" Lydia asked, confusion in her voice. "Not since she and her family left for Vancouver. Malia hasn't texted anything for a while but her latest Facebook update was around eight last night. She and her mom are loving New Mexico."

"Thanks for the information, Lydia. I'll be in a little later this morning, I'm going to swing by Parrish's house. Do me a favor and put in a courtesy call to Melissa McCall and check in on Scott."

"Will do, sheriff."

"One more thing, Lydia," the man hesitated, unsure if he should ask what he wanted. "Do you know someone named Liam?"

***

Faces floated in a miasmic cloud, each of them familiar and strange, at the same time. Stiles sat in a straight-back chair and watched them smile, frown and scowl at him. Scott smiled and made a silly face, one he'd been making since they were kids. Lydia winked at him as she circled the round room he was in. Liam scowled, Derek snarled and Peter smiled in a lewd way. Stiles shifted as Parrish shouted something out him, soundless and unformed so he couldn't read his lips. Jackson, Isaac and Danny all rose up from the floor, each of them thin and misty, as though struggling for cohesion.

A chill settled into his chest and he shifted again, searching for the warmth pressing into his back. In his bed, his hand closed over the sheet and pulled. It didn't move. In his dreaming mind, Jackson shouted at him and he felt the force driving him into the waking world. Startled, he scrambled to the edge of his bed, the sheet balled into his fist. It caught on something. Because it was wound around his torso, Stiles was unable to clear the bed's edge. Winding himself tighter in the material, he gave a shout, one that grew louder when he saw he wasn't alone in his bed.

"FUCK!" he shouted, kicking his foot out. "What the fuck?!"

Leaning up on his elbow, Derek scowled. "Good morning to you, too."

"Good the fuck morning, my naked ass! What the hell are you doing in my bed, Derek?"

"I waited until your dad left," the dark-haired male said, pushing himself to a seated position. "I followed all the standard rules. Where the hell else would I be?"

"I don't know...your loft? In your own bed? Having Fruit Loops in your living room?"

Anger crept into Derek's sharp features. With a snarl, he scrambled to his feet, standing on the mattress. As it was his body holding the sheet taut, Stiles was released from it and fell onto the floor, spilling out in a sprawl of arms and legs. Derek's heavy body made a solid thudding sound as he left the bed and swept up his jeans.

"You know, if you didn't want me here, you should have said so," he growled, fisting the denim. "Make up your mind, Stiles. Stop jerking me around."

"I'm not jerking you...around, up or down. No jerking. Get it?"

Watching the awkward male get to his feet, Derek shook his head. "Are you feeling all right?"

"I just woke up and found an alpha werewolf trying to snuggle me, then fell out of my bed, onto my naked ass...and it's cold as fuck in my California house because there's snow on the ground! No...I'm not all right!"

"California?" Derek's expression became one of confusion. "Beacon Hills is in Virginia."

Sharp spikes of uncertainty stabbed into Stiles and he stumbled back. Derek kept him from falling into the nightstand, a strong arm around his waist. The two of them stood together without speaking until the pain subsided. Stiles' right hand settled into the center of Derek's chest, his fingers raking through the light dusting of curls. His other hand massaged his temple, trying to ease the throbbing. Breathing was difficult, as was standing. He felt weaker when he tried to piece together the events of the previous night and how he ended up here. Virginia didn't seem right, nor did being naked in his bedroom with Derek Hale, of all people.

"Take it easy. Sit down."

"I'm fine," Stiles shook his head. "You can let go of me, now."

"I can, but I'm not going to. You don't look so good and you smell different."

"Different how?"

Nuzzling the other male's neck, the larger of the two took in a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. The scruff of his face grazed soft, bare flesh, causing Stiles to shiver. That honest reaction caused his scent to vary again and Derek breathed in the change. Putting his lips to the jugular vein, he kissed up along the other's neck to the slim hard-line of his jaw. Stiles' soft sigh and the jolt of his body signaled the release of chemicals in his body. Even those variations were slight.

"It's like the difference between kernels of pepper and ground pepper," Derek said in a low whisper, his mouth close to Stiles' ear. "Same thing, different form."

"What are you saying?"

Derek moved forward, carrying them both to the wall. His hands slid down the smooth slope of Stiles' back, rounding over his naked backside. With a low growl, he fought the urge to lift the other male and use him to relieve his building tension. Instead, he kneaded the flesh in his hands and pictured the Triskelion in his head.

"I'm saying...you smell like the Mirror Universe Kirk and not the Kirk who kissed Uhura."

Stiles leaned back, tapping his head on the wall. "Did you just speak Geek to me?"

Derek smiled. "It's the one language you understand without subtitles."

"I don't feel right," the leaner brunette said. "I feel like my head is cluttered up with all kinds of strange things I can't make sense of. I don't know what's happened to me...and you kneading my ass is distracting as fuck."

"Should I stop?"

"Jury's still out but you're making it hard to concentrate."

"It's not the only thing hard."

"Okay, hold up, horn-wolf..." Stiles' hands pressed into Derek's chest. "You know what my dad will do to you if you violate his only son?"

The semi-playful mood evaporated and Derek stepped back, releasing him. Turning, he swiped at his jeans again and began pulling them on. With a rumbling sound, much like a growing growl, he did the same for his shirt. Slipping his arms into the holes, he pulled the black tee up over his head and yanked it down. He could hear Stiles taking the sheet from the floor and wrapping himself in it. By the time he contemplated putting on his socks, Stiles was sitting on the edge of the bed.

"You really think I'm some mirror universe version of your Stiles?"

Derek paused. Both of his motorcycle boots were in one hand and he closed his other into a fist. Turning, he opted not to sit on the side of the bed. "I think you've been under a lot of stress the last couple of days. I think the situation with Scott isn't helping and it's starting to take its toll on you. Because of the small bout of crazy you're experiencing, I'm going to cut you some slack and not push."

"Situation with Scott?"

Changing his mind about sitting on the bed, Derek put his boots between his feet. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Peter...tried to kill Scott," was the halting reply. "Kate was there and Braedon tried to stop her. Parrish and...you..." Looking up, he saw Derek smiling at him. "What? Is this funny to you? Your uncle tried to kill my best friend..." A strange buzzing began in his temples, then. "It's...not funny."

"Peter wasn't trying to kill Scott, he was trying to seduce him."

"Seduce him? He threw a bench at Liam and was screaming at Scott about not being a true alpha!"

"First, Scott isn't a true alpha," Derek chuckled. "Second, who's Liam?"

"The cute little guy you handcuffed to the frame of the van? The new werewolf cub with the serious superpowers and bad attitude?"

Putting a hand on the inside of Stiles' leg, Derek offered a toothy grin. "Handcuffs? Was this another dream of yours?"

Brushing the hand away, Stiles stood up, taking the sheet with him. "No, Derek! Liam! Sandy-brown hair, bright blue eyes, goofy smile? Scott turned him trying to save his life and he's got some serious anger issues, worse than you. You don't remember..."

Again, his head spun and he staggered. Were it not for being caught in Derek's arms again, he would have fallen on his face. Instead, his forehead was pressed hard against the man's chest, his hands holding tight to his shoulders. It was hard to remember Liam and the other kid...the meddling one. Looking up, he found himself swimming in the chocolate brown eyes looking at him with concern. Still being held, it was hard to make his feet and legs support him. When Derek's lips touched his, it became impossible to stand. His body limp, he was glad he was being held so he wouldn't hurt himself even more when he hit the floor. Derek's kiss was somehow a strange bonus.

***

Lydia came to the door of the sheriff's office, a concerned look on her face and a cup of hot coffee in her hand. She hesitated at the door, gauging the man's response to her presence. When there was no shouting, she came inside and put the cup on his desk. He looked up at her, a hopeless look on his face.

"Stiles?" She asked, thinking she already knew the answer.

"I can't understand why he'd lie to me about so much," the sheriff nodded, reaching for the coffee. "First, he said he lost his phone but it was on the nightstand by his bed. Then, he told me he'd gone back to Mexico to save Scott but according to the security cameras at the school, he was there until after the Lacrosse game. He couldn't have flown from Virginia to Mexico and back in so short a time. Then, there's this bit about Kira and Malia and Kate Argent, of all people."

"Kate Argent is dead," Lydia said. "Even if Peter Hale wasn't the one to kill her, she's still dead."

"So, why does Stiles think she isn't?" Taking a long sip of coffee, the sheriff put the cup to the side. "Anything on anyone named Liam?"

"Nothing of note. There's a transfer student coming into Beacon Hills High in the Spring but his paperwork just cleared the admissions office. How would Stiles know about him?"

"I've asked myself the same thing a thousand times and can't come up with any answers. Any word on where Parrish might be?"

"He's still not answering his phone and no one's been able to find his patrol car," Lydia went back to the door of the office. "I've started calling all the surrounding hospitals. Speaking of hospitals, any word on how Scott's doing?"

"Melissa said he'll be released sometime after noon. Turns out, he wasn't as bad as they thought. The fall fractured his wrist and dislocated his shoulder, nothing was broken."

Stopping in the doorway, Lydia pushed back a long lock of red hair. "So, why did Stiles think Peter was trying to kill Scott and why did he end up at Virginia Mercy?"

"With everything I've told you, do you really think there's an answer to those questions wound up in this ball of crazy?"

"Good point. I'm leaving at one, I have to study for mid-terms. You're lucky it snowed today or I'd have been at home and you'd be one less secretary."

"I appreciate you volunteering Lydia. I'll spring for pizza for lunch," the sheriff said, already dialing the phone for his house. After a while, his son answered. "Turns out Scott's going to be fine. I was calling to let you know and to make sure you're still there and resting."

"Yep...still here," the voice on the other end said. "Not so much with the resting. Good that Scott's okay. When's...he coming...home?"

"Sometime after twelve," the sheriff said. "Are you all right?"

"Five by five," Stiles was quick to answer. "Could only be...better if I could...make it to the next...level."

"Lay off the video games, Stiles. You're supposed to be resting."

"But...it's level fourteen...I'm almost out of the maze," the boy responded.

"Rest. I'm serious. I'll see you later tonight. No leaving the house!"

***

"Got it..." Stiles breathed. "No...leaving the house."

Leaning back, away from the slender male, Derek took the phone and slid his thumb across the mute key. Dropping it to the floor, he slid his hand under Stiles' bare hip and eased them both back to the mattress. His chin scrapped over soft flesh, the stubble grazing the surface. Stiles squirmed and fought to find the head of the bed.

"Stop, Derek...just stop for one minute, okay?"

With an exasperated huff, the dark-haired alpha sat up on the bed, letting his hands rest on his thighs. He glowered at Stiles, who covered himself with a pillow. They looked at one another for several awkward moments.

"Look, I don't know when it was you turned into the American Horn-Dog in Upstate Virginia but there is something very strange going on and I've got bigger things on my mind than being in the doggie position with you."

Raising an eyebrow, Derek smirked. "You didn't have any problem with it last Thursday."

"Wait...so you and me? We've...already?"

"No, but you keep saying you want to. Is this another game?"

"I've told you, this isn't a game! Some very freaky shit is happening and if you'd stop thinking with your wolf-dick for two minutes, maybe you could help me out!"

Derek's expression went from put off to solemn. "Wait, you're serious about this, aren't you?"

"Yes! What do you think I've been trying to tell you for the last half hour? Damn!"

"Between your stormtrooper and Vader role-play and the Winchester Brothers Strip Trivia, I never know from one minute to the next if you're serious."

Cocking his head to one side, Stiles studied the handsome face. "Now I can't tell if . _you're._ serious."

The alpha's eyes shifted to a brilliant red and he bared his fangs.

"All right, you're serious," Stiles held up his hands. "The last thing I remember was being in Mexico and someone dragging me outside. Next thing I know, I'm waking up, naked, with my dad talking about grounding me and you attempting to molest me as though we were old friends."

"I can answer two of those mysteries for you," Derek's smile returned. "When I brought you home, I took your clothes off before putting you to bed. I was attempting to molest you because...you asked me to."

Stiles narrowed his eyes, tilting his head to the side. "Me? I asked you to molest me?"

"You did."

"Did I say the words, Derek, please molest me?"

"No."

"Doesn't sound like I asked for it, to me, then. Maybe your wolf hearing isn't as great as you think it is or maybe you're losing your Alpha powers again?"

"Again? I've never lost my alpha powers and my hearing is fine."

The same buzzing in his head came back as Stiles tried to focus on what Derek said about his powers. There was a time when he was powerless, when he was fifteen, when he dated...someone. Furrowing his brow, he tried to recall who got into the car with him when they'd met. It was a blond but there was someone else, someone more recent. He should have known the name. Why was it so hard to think? What were they talking about?

"Let's go over a few things," Stiles shook his head. "I'll ask you some questions, you'll answer based on your memories and I'll see if they match with mine."

"What do I get out of it?"

Letting out a sigh, Stiles dropped his head. "I know I'm going to regret this, but what do you want out of this? What will convince you to help me?"

"A shower," Derek answered.

Stiles raised his head, his expression one of suspicion. "A shower? Here? For answering some questions?"

"A shower...with you. Washing my back. Until I tell you to stop."

"But I'm not dirty."

Derek's grin widened and he leaned forward. "Not yet."

Holding up his hands, Stiles shook his head. "Easy! What is this, rutting season for you wolf-types?"

"You saw how Peter was with Scott last night after the Lacrosse game, I'd have thought it would be obvious was what was going on."

"Wait...it _is_ rutting season?"

The man's eyes narrowed and it was his turn to be suspicious. "You know it is. It starts in October and lasts until around March."

"Must make for an interesting Valentine's Day."

Derek let out a long sigh. "Ask your questions. We'll negotiate the shower."

"Okay...true or false, I rescued you from drowning in a swimming pool," Stiles began.

"True, so I've been told."

"Scott is a werewolf."

"True."

"You and I don't hate each other..."

"No...we don't hate each other. In fact, we kind of like each other. At times, I sort of adore you..when you're not acting spastic and making me play twenty questions."

"When was the first time we kissed?"

Derek's brow wrinkled and he leaned forward. His right hand slid up along Stiles' left cheek. "You're not kidding, are you? You really don't remember?"

Warmth spread through the hand on his face and Stiles blinked. Mexico was warm but not like that hand, not like the smooth waves radiating from Derek's naked body. Looking into those deep brown pools, he saw genuine concern, not ridiculous condescension or belittlement. Putting his hand over Derek's, he let himself embrace the concern. He let himself be pulled forward, into strong arms. Derek's other large hand cradled the back of his head. Taking a deep breath, Stiles turned his head so his cheek was pressed against the warmth of Derek's chest.

"We'll figure this out," the alpha said, smoothing his hair. "You and me, we'll figure this out."

***

At her desk, Lydia finished checking the notes on the last few reports. Filing them into their correct folders, she stood up and smoothed the front of her dark skirt. Her hand brushed the hem and a strange image flashed in front of her eyes. A strange, ruined temple and a brilliant set of blue eyes. The eyes were familiar but she didn't know why. Glancing into the sheriff's office, she stepped out from behind the desk, collected her purse and fished her keys out of it. Going to the door of the police station, she was assaulted by a barrage of images, so many she took hold of the metal door to keep from falling. Scott and Peter were snarling at one another, Kira and Malia were lying on the floor and Stiles...was lying in a bloody heap near the entrance of wherever they were. Catching her breath, she managed to right herself and push the door open, refreshed by the icy bite of the winter air.

"Those aren't things which are going to happen," She told herself, shaking her head. "They have already happened."

Hitting the door release on her car, she picked up her pace so that she sprinted to her car. Inside, she closed the door and fished her phone from her purse. Hitting the Contacts list, she punched Scott's name and the phone began to ring. She watched the snow fall while waiting for an answer.

"Yeah, Lydia, what's up?"

"Scott...where were you, last night?"

"Lacrosse championship," he answered without hesitation. "That's how I got banged up, or didn't the sheriff tell you already?"

"Do you know someone named Liam?"

"Not off the top of my head, no. Why?"

"Is your mom there with you?"

"No, she's called me a cab to get home. Lydia, what's wrong?"

"I don't know but it has something to do with Parrish and Stiles. I'm leaving the police station and heading over there. Can you meet me and I'll drive you home?"

"Yeah, it'll take a few minutes, though, since the snow is starting to come down again."

"Scott...do you ever remember it snowing in Beacon Hills before today?"

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone. "It's snowed in Beacon Hills every year since we were kids. Why are you asking all these weird questions?"

"No reason," she shook her head. "I'll see you when you get there."

Ending the call, Lydia started the car and pulled out onto the plowed portion of road leading to the main highway. Turning out onto the clear section, she started the drive toward her destination. For some reason, she felt hot, in spite of the chill in the car.

"I can see I'm on my own with this," she said to no one. "I just wish I had a better idea of what this is."

***

"Stilinski," the sheriff said, picking up the phone. "Hello?"

"...could you come...for me?"

Putting down the paper he had in his hand, the man was standing. "Parrish?"

"...I'm hurt..."

Checking his gun and keys, the man walked around his desk, phone still in hand. "Where are you?"

"It's dark...and wet. Lots of...rock."

Stretching the phone cord, the sheriff snapped his fingers, getting the attention of the squad desk clerk. Pointing toward the lot, the other officer bolted from his desk and ran toward the front door. Still on the line, the man began to think of all the places Parrish could be. He had to be on a cell. A strange thought came back to him _, his phone wasn't getting any reception. There was too much lead_ , Stiles told him. He stared running over all the places he could think of where a concentration of lead also had rock, water and darkness but could sustain a cell signal.

Taking his phone from his pocket, he dialed in the deputy's number. "I'm calling you on your cell. Switch over so I can get in the car."

There was an audible click. When he was sure he hadn't lost the connection, the sheriff raced out the door, out into the parking lot and around the squad car, started and driven up by the desk clerk. They changed positions behind the steering wheel and he pulled out of the lot. There was only one place he could think of that had all of the things described. It was remote and would take a while to get there.

"You said you were hurt," he said, mindful of the drifted snow and fresh white falling. "How are you hurt? Can you tell me?" There was no answer. "Talk to me, deputy! Stay on the line with me, I'm on my way to you but you're going to have to stay with me."

The beginning snow on the road was going to prohibit his driving fast. Lower temperatures turned wet spots into glassy ice patches and with Parrish's life on the line, he couldn't afford to crash his car before he got to him. Keeping the deputy on the phone allowed him to keep him conscious and take his time in getting to wherever he was. Ahead, the road curved and the cruiser took the turn well. The road straightened out as Parrish spoke.

"I think it's...the iron works...by the smell of things."

"What were you doing out there," the sheriff asked. "Were you following some kind of lead?"

"No sir..." Parrish coughed. "I went by...to check on your son...after the Lacrosse game...and found myself here...with my head throbbing...and a metal spike through my shoulder."

***

Lying on their sides, Derek and Stiles were covered in just the sheet. The room was cool and quiet, the soft snowfall outside muffling any sound from the world.

"Can I ask you something else?"

Derek smiled and drew in a breath. "Two whole minutes without a word, I'm impressed."

"Ha...ha. Do you remember Danny?"

"The homo guy who watched me change my shirt in exchange for helping you out?"

Stiles elbowed Derek with no force at all. "Easy with the anti-gay slurs, kibble-man!"

"I'm in bed, naked, with another man, I don't think I'm anti-gay. Anyway, what about him?"

"Nothing about him, in a direct way. I'm just trying to figure things out, what's right and what's wrong in my head. Maybe, if I can figure out where things go screwy, I can find out what's wrong with me."

Derek nuzzled his neck, breathing in the different scent. "Why do you think there's something wrong with you? You just can't remember some things, is all. You had a hard Lacrosse game last night, you took a fall and so did Scott. It could just be, you're fuzzy on things after. Scott had to go to the hospital and he's a natural healer."

"This is different. I don't remember...things that are, by all intents and purposes, important...like this...with us...you and me, I mean."

"It'll come back to you."

"What if it doesn't?"

"Then, we'll have to start all over," Derek growled in his ear. "I'll have to let you chase me all over again, have to let you be the puppy to my alpha dog."

"I chased you?"

"For almost a year."

"How did I chase you?"

"You tagged along with Scott every time he came to the loft. You made up excuses to come and see me. You followed me to Peter's when I delivered the contracts buying out his share in the Hale property. You sent me a dog collar on Valentine's Day."

Turning over, Stiles gave the man a dubious look.

"Okay, I made the last part up. It does sound like something you'd do, though."

"How did you know I was chasing you?"

"Because you smelled different. When people get aroused, when they get scared, they produce different scents. It wasn't hard to smell the shift when you stopped being afraid of me and when you started being into me."

Curving his arm under his head, Stiles was reluctant to ask his next question. His voice was small and quiet, his eyes shifting from the wall to the curve of Derek's shoulder, to the center of his dark, furred chest. "Have we...you know...done what Luke and Leia wanted to in "Empire" but didn't because it would fuck up Lucas' film?"

Smiling, Derek leaned in and kissed Stiles' nose. "No, we haven't. I've only gotten you naked and spooned you for a few hours. You want to wait."

"Until my dad can't arrest you?"

"Well, yeah...and until you're ready. We play around though."

"Are you rough with me?"

Derek's smile widened. HIs eyes glowed red and he lunged forward. "Let's find out."

***

 

 

 

 


	2. Awareness

Down into a narrow slip of concrete and metal, the sheriff's flashlight beam led the way. Following, the man kept his other hand on the holster of his gun. Ahead, the narrow passageway expanded into a T-junction. To the right, it seemed the spiders had barred the way with month's worth of webbing. To the left, no such barrier existed so he turned toward the left and proceeded with exceptional caution. Light found the broken pieces of rock before the bullet holes in the wall. They were cold to the touch. Down further, the sheriff found a large chunk of what looked to be a support wall.

"Parrish?" He called through the hole. "Can you tell me if you're in there?"

A knocking, metal against stone, answered him. A faint voice came soon after. Careful not to stumble, the sheriff's flashlight beam, again, led the way. Beyond the hole in the support wall, a tangle of wires and metal cable reminded him of the barred right passage. Brushing the majority of the stuff aside, he followed the second round of knocks and the faint voice. Under an ancient arch, he found the injured deputy, pinned to the wall by a large spike of wood and metal.

"Easy, Parrish," he said, his hand still on his gun. "You still with me?"

"I...think so. I'm feeling a little...woozy, though."

Assessing the man's condition, he was pleased to see no blood around the end of the spike. It hadn't penetrated the skin but it had pinned him to the spot. There was a small pool of blood on the right side of the deputy, a repository of the wound in the man's arm. Superficial. His leg was pinned but when the sheriff knelt down, he saw no penetration.

"Okay, I have to see how best to get you out of this. You've got a large beam pinning you to the wall and your legs are pinned under debris holding it in place. If I remove the debris, the beam could puncture your shoulder. If I remove the beam, the debris could crush your legs. I'm going to try and find something to support the debris."

"Over...there," Parrish said, pointing with his eyes. "Blocks..."

Once spotted, the blocks in question made for a proper support and the large wooden beam with its metal fixtures was removed. Parrish leaned forward and maneuvered his leg out from under the boards and rocks. He was helped to his feet, using the sheriff's shoulder and the wall to stand. Together, they used the hem of his t-shirt to make a bandage for his arm and he was moved out of the spot. Still in the large room, the two men stopped at the entrance.

"What are you doing down here?"

"I don't know," Parrish said, shaking his head. "I wasn't anywhere near this place last night. I was..."

"What is it?"

Holding his head, the deputy closed his eyes. "I can't...remember. I just wasn't here."

"Were you in Mexico?"

"Yes."

The answer was lightning-fast but after it was given, the deputy shook his head. "No...I wasn't in Mexico. I was...the Lacrosse game...Stiles."

"Why am I not surprised that my son is involved in this?"

Sliding an arm under the deputy's, the sheriff eased them both out of the large room and back into the narrow hallway. Parrish held the flashlight. At a much slower pace, they came out, into the wet, snowy afternoon. Once in the squad car, the engine was started and the heat turned on. After a while, Parrish looked out of the window.

"When did it start snowing in California?"

***

"One year, two months, sixteen days...and a few hours."

"Have we told anyone?"

"Peter knows."

Stiles tilted his head. "Your uncle knows but my friends don't?"

"Your choice. I've told you to tell them, it would cut way down on the sneaking around, but you have some kind of issue with it."

"What kind of issue would I have with boning a hot, red-eyed alpha wolf?"

Derek smiled a toothy grin and rubbed his stubble along the center of Stiles' bare chest. "We're not boning...yet...but I ask myself that all the time. Only you know the answer."

"Why aren't you more freaked out about this?"

"Would it help?"

Stiles leaned his head back on the two pillows. His right hand, under the covers, found his own hip. His left hand, on Derek's shoulder, found the back of the man's neck. There was a connection between his hands, flesh of one and flesh of another. It was a strange thing he couldn't explain to himself. Across the white expanse of his ceiling, his eyes drifted back and forth, searching for an answer to a question he didn't know he had.

"Do you think Lydia will be mad?"

"I don't know her well...I'm not in high school."

"You think Scott will be mad?"

"Do you care?"

"He's my best friend. Somewhere, I care about his opinion."

 "Of me or the choice to be with me?"

"Are you going to bite me if I say both?"

"Do you want me to bite you?"

Stiles' eyes returned to Derek, who was not smiling, in spite of the playfulness in his voice. "So I could be your beta, ever at your beck and call?"

Raising onto his elbows, Derek's jaw flinched. "I'd never use you like that. If you were to be my beta, it would be because you chose to be, not because I forced you to be."

"Easy..."

"We don't have that kind of thing," Derek said, his tone insistent. "You're not submissive to me, unless you choose to be. I don't do that."

"Okay," Stiles said, putting his right hand to the man's face. "Sorry. It was a lame attempt at a joke. I don't know what kind of _thing_ we have, remember?"

"It's a respectful _thing_ , one where you are who you are and I lo...like you for it."

"Too soon for the other L-word, I take it?"

Derek nodded. "You don't like it so I don't say it...but I feel it."

"Have I given you a reason for not liking it?"

"A few."

"Having to do with my mom? Abandonment issues?"

"Among other things," Derek nodded again. "You do the Patrick Swayze thing."

"Wait...we dirty dance? Who leads?"

"Not that Patrick Swayze thing!"

Stiles sat up, his face serious. "I do NOT dress in drag and call you princess!"

"Not that one, either, you goof! Instead of the L-word, you say _'you too'_. It's like his saying _ditto_ to Demi Moore in _Ghost_."

"Why do you think I can't remember this, and don't give me the Lacrosse fall as a reason again."

Sliding his hands under Stiles' back, Derek brought them together again, their chests pressed hard against one another. His eyes were warm and searching, his senses detecting all they could. Leaning in, he nuzzled the boy again, breathing him in. Something wasn't the way it had been before last night. He'd smelled it then, too, but thought nothing of it. Now, the difference in scent might have had a deeper meaning but still, one he didn't know. Leaning back, he looked Stiles in the eye.

"I think something may have happened to you, something that's changed you. Whatever that something is has also altered your memories, maybe wiped them out."

"Does it worry you?"

"Not in the least."

"Why not?"

Derek leaned forward and kissed him, a long, gentle gesture, one Stiles didn't fight. When it was ended, Derek smiled. "You may not remember us but you feel what I do about us. You know we're right. Right now, I'm not worried because there's nothing to worry about."

***

Pulling into the driveway behind the familiar blue jeep, Lydia turned off the engine of her red Mustang and watched the snow fall onto the windshield. A while ago, there had been something odd about snowfall in Virginia but now, as she watched it, she couldn't remember what it was. Maybe the fact it had snowed four times in the last two weeks or the simple fact snow was her favorite thing about winters in Virginia.

Shaking her head, she took the keys from the ignition. "Except for the fact I don't have a favorite thing about winters in Virginia because I've never spent a winter in Virginia!"

Opening the door, she got out and stood in the bracing cold for a moment before closing the door after her. Marching up the drive, she stopped at the large stone flowerpot, reached behind it and withdrew a key. She wasted no time in slipping the key into the front door lock and going into the Stilinski kitchen. Closing the door, she took in her surroundings.

"How...did the front door lead into the kitchen?"

Looking out the panes of glass, she saw the red of her Mustang through the frost on the window. Her head felt strange, a buzzing sound circling behind her eyes. Holding to the doorframe, she waited for it to pass before turning back to the kitchen. Just outside, to the right, she began to climb the steps.

"Stiles?" She called in a loud voice and, for a second, had the fleeting thought she could call louder, if she put her mind to it. A flash of Eiken House raced behind her thoughts. "Stiles, are you home? Your jeep is out front. Are you decent?"

Opening the door to Stiles' bedroom, she was confronted with an empty bed, no inhabitant and a chilled space. Crossing to the window, she pushed it down, closing the inch gap. Looking around, she saw no signs of Stiles, other than a few comic books, dirty clothes and the usual clutter. Walking over to the closet, she opened the door to find nothing unusual inside. No water running. No other sound in the room. Walking back into the hallway, she made a round before returning downstairs.

"It's Lydia, Stiles! Are you here? We need to talk!"

After no response, the redhead went to the back door and opened it. Taking a moment to look out, into the driveway, to where her car still sat, she gave the kitchen one last look before going out into the snow. Hitting the release on the lock, she paused long enough to replace the key behind the stone pot and got back in her car. Taking her phone from her bag, she dialed Stiles' number.

"I just came by your house. We need to talk. Something very strange is going on. I'm going over to Scott's house. Come over when you get this message."

Giving the house one final look, she pulled out of the driveway and back onto the road. In the rearview mirror, she gave the house one last look. What she saw made her slam on the brakes.

***

"If you deflowered me before we told him, I'd say the odds are good."

Derek slid his hand up into the center of Stiles' back. "Deflower, huh? So...you think you're a flower?"

"It is called a rosebud."

Leaning against the wall, Derek grimaced. "I'm not sure if I should be grossed out or amused or somehow a crazy mix of the two."

Stiles sat facing the dark-haired man, both of his legs wrapped around Derek's waist, their lower torsos pressed together, his back cradled by Derek's bent legs. They looked at one another for a while before Stiles touched Derek's chest, letting his fingers trail through the dark curls of chest hair.

"So, do I have a red hoodie?"

"Sorry?"

"If you can turn into a big black wolf, do I have a red hoodie?"

Derek smiled. "No, but if you want one, I'll get one for you."

Stiles smiled. "I'll pass on the cliché. Do you miss me? When I'm at school or at practice, do you miss me or do you have a gazillion pictures of me on your phone?"

"No phone pictures," the other male said, his hand trailing down Stiles' arm. "I have the only picture I need of you in here," he tapped his temple with his other hand. "I'm not too into technology."

"Do you get all growly when we argue?"

"We don't argue."

"Come on," Stiles tilted his head. "We have to argue over something. Captain Crunch or pancakes, pajamas or commando, Star Wars or Star Trek, leather or vinyl, something!"

"We don't argue, we have long, lengthy debates that drag on until one of us gets tired of debating. We went on for almost a week on whether or not I'd ask you about Spider-Man #134."

"Did you?"

"No. I'm much more stubborn than you."

"But you wanted to," Stiles gave a tilt of his head and a smile. "You still do, don't you?"

"You don't even know what I was going to ask."

"No, but if you ask it now, I'll know...and I can answer."

"That would mean you won the debate. I'm stubborn, remember?"

Shifting his weight, Stiles dropped his hand and let it rest on his lower stomach. He reclined against Derek's legs and let out a long sigh. Turning his hand around, Derek trailed his knuckles down the center of Stiles' chest and back up to his cheek. Leaning forward, he brought his lips to the boy's chin and kissed up, along his cheek, to his earlobe and down his neck.

"Do you always do that?"

"You're gone for eight hours out of the day, for five days out of seven. I have to negotiate weekends with Scott, your dad, study sessions and Lacrosse practice. I have to do this as often as I can to make up for lost time."

Affording a glance toward the window of his room, Stiles saw the snow falling heavier now. The edges of the glass were already thick with frost. Looking back, he put a hand to Derek's cheek. It felt rough but soft, familiar but strange. His breathing picked up when he looked into those dark eyes. Mexico. A large temple. Peter. Scott. Someone else...several someones, now with no name...no gender. His memory of the previous day was less now than it had been two hours ago.

"Are you hungry?"

"Anything I might be hungry for is right here in front of me."

Stiles smiled, a lopsided, goofy smile. "Should I tell my dad?"

"You ask me that same question every time we're together. It's obvious you want to but I can't tell you what you should and shouldn't do. It's not my call."

"What aren't you telling me?"

Derek leaned back against the wall. "Honest opinion? You should have told him the first time."

Wrinkling his eyebrows, Stiles shifted his weight again. "First time? Help an amnesiac out?"

"When you came in, sat down at your computer and I was naked behind your door? Your dad came to tell you that he'd be at your first Lacrosse game and that he was proud of you. You could have told him then and spared yourself a lot of worry."

"Derek Hale's in my room...bring the gun."

"What?"

Stiles leaned up, then. "That's what really happened. You were standing behind my door...but you were wearing a leather jacket. After my dad left, you grabbed me...pushed me against the door and threatened me...you got all wolf-y on me."

Concerned, Derek's eyebrows furrowed.

"...for harboring your fugitive ass, my house, my rules, buddy," Stiles went on, reliving the memory in his head. "It gets...broken, after that."

" _You swing for a different team_ ," Derek said. " _But you still play ball_. That's what you said to Danny. He said you were a horrible person and you agreed. We were using him to--"

"Trace a text." Stiles took a breath. "Did you...slam my head on the steering wheel after?"

Derek shook his head. "No. We did something else after...with Danny."

"I'm feeling a strange mixture of curiosity and wild bewilderment."

"Stiles, now I'm worried. We talked about this earlier. You don't remember, do you?"

Pain stabbed through the back of Stiles' head, causing him to lurch forward. It seared into his mind, stabbing into the soft tissue of memory and ripping downward, stripping away color and sound. His hand shot out, pushing against the wall. He didn't feel Derek's arm slip around him, catch him from falling to the floor. Breathing became impossible as the soft white-noise of the pain caused him to lurch again, drowning out sight and touch. His body pitched, his head all but swiveled on his shoulders.

"Hold on," Derek growled, vaulting from the bed, Stiles in his arms. "Stay with me! Look at me! Focus on me, Stiles, right here!"

Swiping up his pants, he pulled them on, balancing Stiles in his free arm, careful to cradle his head. Turning back to the bed, he took up the sheet, thinking to cover Stiles but the boy's hand shot up to stop him. Their eyes met.

"Help me stand..."

Using his body as support, Derek kept his right arm around Stiles but let him get to his feet. Again, they looked at one another for a long few moments, the pain clearing, his senses coming back. With a weak smile, Stiles put his hand on Derek's shoulder and welcomed the embrace that followed.

"You managed to put your pants on...without letting me fall."

"I'll never let you fall," Derek said, holding Stiles closer. "Never."

***

"Virginia? You're sure?"

"I'm sure," the sheriff answered, turning onto the road. "For the last five years. Beacon Hills, Virginia."

"Why did I think we were in California?"

Driving down a long stretch of highway, the sheriff watched the snow fall and contemplated the question and not for the first time. His foot pressed down a bit more on the accelerator and the cruiser picked up speed. They had a short time to get to where they needed to be but he shouldn't know what he felt he knew. Beside him, Parrish stopped shivering, the heat from the car doing its job. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he slid the screen and hit the send button.

"It's dad...please pick up."

His foot pressed down. Snow fell in larger, thicker clumps. Parrish leaned against the window, his eyes on the falling snow, his hand running along the dashboard, as though feeling for something he couldn't find. Going around the curve, he leaned into it.

"We were in Mexico...I was running out of ammo and that thing wasn't going down."

The cruiser's speed went up, well beyond the speed limit.

"Something else was out there, that night. Braeden was killed first, her body torn apart. Chris had wolfsbane bullets but there was...interference."

"I called him," the sheriff said, handling the car. "I was furious at him. He didn't pick up but if he had, I was going to threaten to hobble him! He was grounded...he never should have been at that Lacrosse game. He didn't answer his phone."

"The girl, Kira, she was killed by whatever came out of the darkness. The other girl, Malia, she was cut in half just after Araya Calaveras got there with her family. Kate Argent...she was the one controlling all of those things...she kept talking about a Dark Moon."

Turning the wheel, the cruiser picked up speed and the sheriff hit the lights. The roads hadn't started to ice but it was going to happen. They needed to get to where they were going beforehand.

"She tried to turn Scott...but the Calaveras...and Derek Hale...they stopped her. They killed her." Parrish swayed with the car. "Flashes of gold light were everywhere. The temple entrance, Peter Hale coming out with Scott, talking about saving his beta...Derek...Kate dying...Araya shouting, waving a cattle prod...so much screaming."

"Stiles?"

As they rounded the corner and broke the seventy-five-mile-an-hour mark, the squad car hit drier road and accelerated. Parrish swallowed and felt as if he might be sick.

"Scott...was carrying him," the deputy whispered. "He...was dead."

***

Holding the car door, Lydia let her eyes trace the landscape again. It couldn't be true, what her eyes told her she saw. The numbers on Stiles' license plate were wrong, the seven backward, the nine upside down. The Virginia plate was wrong, not the right...something. Even the house was wrong but only in the small details. The stone pot was on the wrong side, the key on the wrong side. It was all wrong but somehow right, as well. Shaking her head, Lydia didn't know what to do, how to proceed. Something in her head fought to make sense out of all of this as she sat back down in the driver's seat of her car. Glancing up, into the rearview mirror, she had an idea. Reaching for her purse, she took out her compact and opened it. Standing, she looked into the glass.

"It's a reverse image," she said in a low whisper. "That's what's wrong. That's why the front door brought me into the kitchen."

Going back to where she put the key, Lydia took it out of its hiding place and went back to the front door. Turning to the side, she looked into the compact mirror and slid the key into the lock. This time, she turned it in the opposite direction, one that should have locked the door. Instead, it came open with a soft clicking sound, swallowed up by the air around her. With her foot, she pushed it open and eased into the chilled warmth of the Stilinski house.

"Could it be this easy?" She asked this question, not expecting an answer.

Before there could be one, a knock sounded on the door. As it wasn't closed, the new arrival came into the room, his hand still on the knob.

"Scott? What...are you doing here?"

"You said to meet you here," he answered. "I couldn't get here before now, my mom was busy running tests on me, making sure I was all right. I tried to tell her I was but she--"

"Later. Let's go check on Stiles!"

Taking the stairs two at a time, Lydia cleared them with Scott following close behind her. Together, they reached the door to Stiles' bedroom, only to find it locked. Looking at Scott, Lydia shook her head.

"It wasn't locked before. I went in...he wasn't here. Something very strange is going on."

"Stiles?" Scott pounded on the door. "Open the door, man! It's us, Scott and Lydia!" His pounding grew harder. As he was about to shout again, the door came open. "Sti--"

"Derek," Lydia said, expressing their combined surprise. "Scott...it's Derek...almost naked...in Stiles' room. Almost naked Derek just answered Stiles' door...did I mention he's almost naked?"

***

Down the sloping highway, the police cruiser did well on the roads. Snow was falling at a much more rapid pace but was accumulating on the sides of the road first.

"How's the arm?"

"Still hurts but I'll live," Parrish answered. "We're not going to the hospital, are we?"

"I need to make sure my son is all right. He's got to come first, right now, if you're not bleeding to death or dying. Do you remember anything else? Something that could help us figure out what's going on?"

"Something about this Dark Moon is right on the edge of my brain. It had something to do with the temple in Mexico, some reason why Kate chose that place, in the first place. She manipulated everyone to get us all there...she lured Peter there with Malia, Kira, Stiles and Liam came because of Scott...Derek and Braedon were there because of Kate. It was all to do with her. If we could..."

When he paused, the deputy stopped swaying and clamped his hand onto the dashboard. A roaring sound, like waves crashing, echoed in his head, drowning out his thoughts. Glancing at the sheriff, he recognized the hard set of the man's jaw and realized the situation was a lot more desperate than he first believed. They were going to his house, it had something to do with Stiles, this desperation.

"I've told you all I know, what do you know?"

Turning down the main street, the sheriff slowed the car so they wouldn't crash into someone or something unexpected. The last thing they needed was to be delayed over a careless accident. He slid thumb over his phone again and let it ring, hoping for a pick-up this time.

"Stiles was talking about Kira and Malia, too," he answered, not taking his eyes from the road. "He was talking about someone named Liam and how they'd gone to Mexico for Scott. That couldn't be possible since he was at the Lacrosse game last night."

"Lacrosse...in this weather?"

"Last game of the season," the sheriff nodded. "Snowstorm looming and they had to play in shorts, cleats and gloves. Athletics fuel the dollars for the school so the boys have to play."

"You sent me to your house last night, to make sure Stiles got home okay, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did," he nodded again, turning off the main street.

"Then, why do I remember being in Mexico last night with Kate Argent?"

"That, deputy, is the one million dollar question I hope we're going to get some answers to."

***

"Let us in, Derek."

"You don't give orders here, Scott."

"Why won't you let us in?" Lydia's tone was softer, kinder. "We just want to make sure Stiles is okay. Just let us see him, see he's all right and we'll go on our way."

"It's okay, Derek," Stiles said from behind the door. "Let them in. It's okay."

Backing into the room, using himself and the door as a blockade, the larger man admitted the others. Scott came in first, anxious to get to his friend. Lydia followed a few paces behind. They came into the room just as headlights shone up along the ceiling. Scott glanced out the window, relieved to see the police squad car pulling in alongside Stiles' jeep and Lydia's car. Snow was still coming down. Turning back, he caught a strange scent.

"That's...not Stiles."

Derek growled, releasing the door and moving in front of the boy on the bed. "Back off, Scott."

"What do you mean, that's not Stiles? It looks like him to me," Lydia said.

"It might look like him but it doesn't smell like him. The room has his smell all over it but that's not him."

Now imposing himself between both Scott and Lydia, Derek put one hand behind him, touching Stiles' bare chest, holding him back. The other hand was out in front of him, sharp claws extended. Fangs bared, Derek growled again.

"Not another step...either of you. You've seen him. He's not hurt, nothing's wrong with him...you can both leave, now."

Scott growled back. "We're not going anywhere until you tell us what's going on."

Derek heard the door downstairs, the heavy footsteps on the kitchen floor, walking across to the stairs. He eased Stiles back on the bed, toward the wall. Extending his other hand further, he eased the transformation, retracting his fangs and claws, letting the coolness of the room help calm him. Against the bare skin of his chest, the cool air felt good. The burning redness behind his eyes faded, shifting them back to brown. Footsteps sounded in his ears, coming up the stairs, almost here.

"I mean it, Derek, tell us what's going on!"

"Good idea, Mr. Hale," the sheriff said, coming into the room, his hand on his gun. "You're standing in my son's room, in just your pants, while he's naked and huddled against the wall. You have to admit, things look a little strange."

Parrish followed, coming around to stand behind Lydia, who hadn't moved. Scott started forward but Derek turned on him, growling from deep inside his chest.

"I told you...stay back!"

"This isn't Stiles! I don't know who it is but it isn't Stiles!"

From behind him, still on his knees in the center of the bed, the dark-haired boy put a hand on Derek's bare shoulder, the contact breaking through the man's anger. His other hand folded into the one on his chest, bringing it down and away from him.

"He's right, isn't he?" Stiles asked when Derek turned to face him. "I don't belong here, do I?"

The hard features of Derek's handsome face eased. In an involuntary movement, his eyebrows rose as he allowed his hand to be moved. Turning toward the bed, he reached forward and touched Stiles' face, cradled his jaw in the curve of his palm. The pad of his thumb slid across the smooth space under the warm eyes he knew so well, eyes of a stranger.

"To me, you do," Derek whispered. "To me...you belong right here...with me."

"What did you do?" Stiles' question triggered an unexpected reaction in the alpha. Two large tears appeared and rolled down Derek's cheeks.

"What I had to. I did...what I had to...to keep you safe."

"This is about the Lacrosse game last night, isn't it?" Scott asked, his mind working on the events of the past night. "We were in the middle of a match, no, the end of the match. We were ahead but the other team wasn't going to give up. They got...aggressive."

"Too aggressive," Derek growled.

"They rushed us on the last play. It's how I hurt my arm..." Scott tried to focus but the details were hazy. "The field was slick and they took advantage of it. The guard swung for me but Stiles..."

"Was faster," Derek finished.

Stiles brought his hand up and touched the man's face. "What did you do, Derek?"

"I told you, I'd never let you fall."

Leaning forward, Derek brought the boy in, pressing their bare chests together, enfolding his arms around him, pulling him closer. Hot tears streamed down his face. Stiles' own arms did the same, holding tight to Derek's bare, muscular torso. Because of their positioning, Derek's head was at the center of his chest and Stiles could see his father's expression as he processed the scene unfolding in front of him. Shifting his eyes, he focused on the triskelion and the warmth coming from Derek.

"He was hurt last night, wasn't he?"

Scott turned toward the sheriff, unsure how to answer the man's question.

"Hurt bad enough you did something you wouldn't have done, otherwise."

Derek's grip on Stiles grew tighter. His body expanded, a thin line of hair sprouting from the center of his back and disappearing into his jeans. The same hair appeared on his face, his arms, and growing thicker on his chest, now laboring to deliver air to his lungs.

"It was Kate," Parrish said, adding in fragments of memory. "She killed Stiles."

"Peter," Scott said, the image of the man rising in his mind. "He saved Stiles."

"You're both right," Lydia spoke up. "It's why this house is the way it is, why all of this is the way it is. Whatever Kate did in the other time and place coincided with what Peter did in this one. Stiles just happened to be the focal point of them both."

Parrish looked from the sheriff to Lydia and back. "The Dark Moon. It's the only thing that makes sense."

"Dark moon? Care to explain, deputy?"

Parrish stepped in between Lydia and the sheriff. Scott made no further move toward the bed but didn't take his eyes off Derek and Stiles.

"I told you, Kate called everything together last night because it was the last night in the cycle of the Dark Moon, a time sacred to the were-jaguars. Her plan was to kill Scott and his pack and assume his power. Something must have happened at the same moment she killed Stiles."

"The Lacrosse guard hit him in the back," Scott interjected. "Oh...my god...he--"

"Killed him," Derek said, still holding tight. "Accident or not, with one blow, he severed Stiles' spinal cord. Peter and I were in the stands. It was Peter, he called up a spell, one he tried when...after the fire. It didn't work then but last night, it did. It worked, in seconds, but not the way he thought it would. It didn't bring my Stiles back..."

"It brought me here," Stiles said, his hand settling onto the tattoo on Derek's back. "Life, death and rebirth. The triskelion means life and death, doesn't it? It's a Celtic symbol you adopted because of what the Hales can do, isn't it?"

Releasing his grip, Derek stood, his face sharp and wolfish, his eyes red. "Some of us, when the time is right, we can do amazing things. We Hales...are always evolving."

"So, this Stiles doesn't belong here," Scott began.

Whirling on the other wolf, Derek's hand slashed the air, taking hold of the boy's shirt, twisting it and using it lift Scott of the floor. In a flash, he'd brought him back, slamming him into the wall with a skull-jarring thud that sounded through the room.

"He **DOES** belong here! He belongs with me!"

"Derek..." Stiles began, coming off the bed, leaving the sheet. "Don't hurt him. Go easy, Derek."

To his credit, Scott hadn't allowed the outburst to trigger his own wolfish transformation. Derek, however, was all but wolf. His hand, now ending in claws, was holding the torn tatters of shirt. His arm was covered in thick, dense black fur. His chest and back were thick with the same. Powerful muscles corded his entire torso and his legs stretched the confines of his jeans.

"Let's all calm down," the sheriff said, his hand coming off the gun. "Son...put some pants on. Derek, put down the teenager and try to refrain from tearing him apart. Lydia, I'm going to need some very strong coffee. Deputy, radio in to the station and tell them I'm taking the rest of the day. I think it's safe to say that I've got a bit of a family issue to deal with."

***


	3. Adaptation

Slumped against the wall, his shirt in ribbons, Scott pulled his phone from his back pocket. Thankful the screen wasn't broken, he thumbed through his contacts. Towering over him, Derek glared at him, all of his wolfish features still intact.

"Who are you calling?"

"Someone who can help us," Scott responded, hitting the send button. "You need to chill the hell out, Derek, we're all on the same side!"

Pulling on his jeans, Stiles sat down on the edge of the bed. The strange buzzing in his head was gone but there was an ache growing at the base of his spine and spreading through his temples, a strange sensation. Looking up, he accepted the black t-shirt Derek held. Still standing next to the door, he gave the sheriff a quick glance before pulling the shirt over his head. Not wanting to jump downstairs to start this very awkward conversation, he took his time putting on socks and shoes. It was a strange sensation to find the checked Converse in the same spot he kept them back in his room. Glancing outside, he noticed snow accumulated on the window sill. Snow. Remembering back to this morning, the thought of snow was normal. Hoth, The ice-planet in Empire Strikes Back, he'd made the reference out of instinct. It was a natural thing to say. Mexico came up in front of his eyes again, the stark desert and the cloud of dirt and grit it left behind as they barreled across the sand. Liam. The name didn't conjure a clear picture but he remembered clear, blue eyes and a frightened look. Derek was holding the...something...telling him about a mantra to calm him down. There was more to the memory but the details weren't coming to him anymore.

"You okay?"

Turning, he gave Derek a nod. "Are you always like this with me?"

"Always like what?"

"All...growly and slamming-people-against-the-wall-like."

"I don't know," the alpha's eyebrows creased. "No one's ever come for you. Since it was my first instinct when I thought they might hurt you, I'd have to guess...yes."

"Just so you know, it's a little scary. Not crawl under the bed scary, but take a step back scary."

"Noted. I can't say I'll stop, just so you're aware."

"Noted."

Swiping up his shirt from the floor, Derek pulled it on as Scott was getting to his feet. They shared a look before Scott bowed his head, a wolf-trait. Without a word, he walked out of the room and went to the kitchen where Lydia was pulling coffee cups from a cabinet. She gave him a sympathetic look.

"Everything still nearing meltdown mode?"

"Not so much now Derek and Stiles are dressed."

"Did you know?" Lydia took down sugar. "About Derek and Stiles, I mean."

"Not a clue," Scott shook his head, going over to the back door. "I wonder what else I don't know about. I know Derek is my alpha and he doesn't owe me anything but I'd have thought Stiles would have told me. We're best friends."

"We all have secrets, Scott. We're human."

Watching the snow, the boy touched the glass, relieved to feel the cold. "Do you know what's going on? Upstairs, you sounded like you might."

"I have an idea but I don't want to say too much, just yet. I'm afraid saying it out loud will make me freak out even more than I am and in this situation, right now, I'm the coolest head here."

Scott smiled. "Good thinking."

"Who did you call?"

Turning, Scott looked at her. "How did you know I called someone?"

"You're standing at the door like a puppy waiting for its master to come home. I figured you might have called your mom or someone."

Looking back out the window, he shifted his eyes to the driveway. "...or someone."

***

Upstairs, still standing by the door, the sheriff gave both of the room's other occupants a once-over. Derek looked between the two Stilinski men and made for the door. With his foot, the sheriff shut it.

"Just a minute," he said, stepping in front of it. "The three of us need to have a talk."

"Uh oh," Stiles said, sitting down on the foot of the bed. "Sauron speaks."

"Not the time, Stiles. You may not be eighteen yet, but this is grown-up time. I just walked in on a very upsetting situation and I think I'm entitled to some answers to a few questions. We'll start with you, Derek."

"Not Mr. Hale?"

"You were in my son's room, half-naked with him covered in just a sheet. I think we can dispense with the mister, don't you?"

"Point taken."

"Good...so, how far has this gone? Have you committed a felony, yet?"

"No."

"Any plans on it?"

"It isn't a felony if I have parental consent," Derek all but snarled on the word, _parental_. "I'd never force him to do something he doesn't want to do. I'm not a rapist."

"Considerate. Did he let you into my house this morning or did you imagine parental consent then, too?"

Stiles was off the bed and between the two men in a flash. "Before either of you start pissing on the floor - or on me, which would be gross - let me just jump in here and point out I'm pretty important to both of you and, instead of being at each other's throats, you might want to think about me. Also, I'm not eighteen, sure, but I'm also not an empty-headed teenager who doesn't know who he wants."

"Two years ago, you wanted to be Lydia's first husband," the sheriff said. "Now, you want to be Red Riding Hood to the Big Bad Wolf, here?"

Derek snarled.

"Dad...don't antagonize the alpha werewolf who has two very large, very murderous forms, both of which could do serious Darth Maul damage to us both."

"Is that supposed to scare me? I'm looking out for my son!"

"You don't need to look out for him with me," Derek growled. "I love him."

"And, I'm out," Stiles said, moving back to the end of the bed.

"That's why I let Peter do what he did! I saw him lying on the field and I didn't think, I just wanted to save him, bring him back to me."

Expecting a fight, Stiles brought his knees up to his chest and covered his head with his hands.

"I can see my son is in good hands," the sheriff said. "You wanna wait outside for us, Derek? I need to speak to Stiles in private, and by outside, I mean downstairs with the others."

Stepping out from in front of the door, the sheriff opened it and allowed the other man to leave. When they were alone in the room, he closed it and crossed to the desk chair in front of the computer. Turning it around, he sat down. He didn't say anything, right away. Instead, he let the chilled silence settle on the room. After several long, awkward moments, Stiles looked up.

"Should I call you J--"

The sheriff held up a hand to cut him off. "Dad...is still an acceptable form of address."

"But, I'm not your son."

"Now, hold on," the man said, his expression serious. "I noticed you didn't have to look for anything when you were getting dressed. Says to me this place is a lot like the one you come from. If that's the case, then I contributed to half your DNA. That makes you my son."

"You don't know. For all you know, I could be a half-lizard creature from deep inside the Earth, manifesting itself in this dimension for the sole purpose of harvesting your--"

"--young with the intention of creating a reptilian army, bent on world domination." The sheriff leaned back in the desk chair. "You've said this to me a hundred times before. It's your go-to what if when you're feeling a little unsure."

"What if there's more to this than we know? What if it's something worse?"

"I just found out my son died last night while I was chasing down underpass taggers," the man leaned forward in his chair. "I can't think of anything worse. Now, I have him sitting right in front of me, alive and well, and maybe changed a little. I'm not seeing a lot of bad, here, right now."

"Still, you know I'm not the real one."

"You ever been a parent?"

"Do turtles count?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Then, no."

"Then you can shut the hell up, now. Whatever the outcome of all this mess," the sheriff stood from the chair and crossed the room. "You're my son. No argument. Got it?"

"Can I have a raise in my allowance?"

"Don't push it."

Without another word, the man grabbed the boy and held him close. One hand on the back of his head, the other in the small of his back, he held Stiles, allowing himself the extra few minutes to feel their heartbeats in counterpoint on his chest. It didn't matter to him where this other boy came from, he felt as if he'd been given a gift. Still, in a dark corner of his mind, he grieved for his son, the one he'd held as an infant and nursed through the first real bought of illness without his mother. Sure he would grieve even more later, he said a quiet thank you to the universe for this strange miracle.

"After this is over, we're going to talk about Derek."

"I thought we would," Stiles nodded, still in the man's embrace. "Could I ask a favor, though, before we do? A serious favor, not a Stiles-favor."

Releasing the boy, the man nodded.

"Let me talk to him, first. Back where I'm from...I just sort of...watched Derek, from a long way away. I thought about doing what we did today but I was always too afraid to act on it. Let me feel him up...out...and see how I feel, first. Then, we can talk and set boundaries."

"I wasn't going to set boundaries. It's your body and you're smart enough to make your own decisions. What I meant by talking about Derek is, however this plays out, he watched someone he loved die - again. He's going to need some looking out for, after all this is finished. If he's going to be around, I just wanted to make sure you knew."

"We could kill two angst-y birds with one heartfelt stone and have him over for dinner."

"Let's get through this and if we don't all go up in a puff of smoke, I'll carve out next Thursday night."

Turning, the man opened the door. Stiles stepped forward but the man put a hand on his shoulder. Again, they looked at one another before the sheriff smiled.

"Being a cop in a small town has its advantages when it comes to checking up on the people your son's thinking of dating. In terms of his background, Derek's a good man. His temper, on the other hand, he's got a ways to go. I guess what I'm saying is, you made a good choice, son."

***

Coming into the kitchen, Derek kept his distance from the counter and Lydia. Upon seeing him, she held up a cup and he shook his head. Putting it back down, she looked down, moved a spoon around and tried to think of something to say. Shifting her eyes to Parrish, she got no help there, as he just shrugged his shoulders. Knowing Scott was staring out the window, she turned back to Derek.

"You've been here all morning, then? With Stiles?"

"Since around nine."

"He's been okay?"

"Minor head ache, but yeah, he's okay."

"What about you?"

"My head's fine."

Coming around the counter, she held out a hand. "I didn't mean your head. I meant, how are you doing? Are you okay?"

"I'm good."

Lowering her hand, Lydia stayed where she was. "We're all here...if you want to vent or whatever it is you do to let off steam."

"Except breaking things," Parrish added. "We're not down for breaking things...like arms."

"I'm not going--"

"He's here," Scott said from the door, both hands on the glass. "Now, maybe we can get some answers!"

"Who's here?" The deputy pushed out of his chair at the table and went to the door. "Who did you call to help us?"

Scott was already opening the door, letting in a light puff of white snow and a steady chill. A large figure appeared in the door just as the sheriff and Stiles were coming into the kitchen. Scott stepped away to allow the newcomer into the house.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm good," Scott nodded.

Peter smoothed back the hair on the boy's head, turning his face to the right and left, looking for any indication to the contrary. Finding none, he took Scott's face in his hands and kissed him hard on the mouth. They stood locked in the kiss for some time, silencing everyone in the room. When the kiss ended, Peter held Scott to him in a tight embrace, one the boy returned.

"What is it with you boys and Hale men?" The sheriff came through and over to the counter. "Are there not any other gay boys at your school? What about the kid on the Lacrosse team, the one who came over here to study?"

Derek and Stiles exchanged a look.

"Wasn't one of the twins gay?" The sheriff poured a cup of coffee and sipped from it. "I've heard of having a daddy complex but Stiles, you have a father, a very active, present father."

"Except for Lacrosse games," Derek growled.

"Easy," Stiles touched his arm. "Below the belt, man. Way below."

Instead of taking the bait, the man turned and leaned against the counter, taking a long drink of the strong brew. He watched as Peter Hale shut the door behind himself, shook off the light jacket and double-checked Scott for injury.

"How did this get done to your shirt if you're not hurt?"

"Derek got a little...excited. It's all right. I'm good."

Coming into the kitchen, Peter put his jacket on the back of a chair. Smiling at Derek, he nodded toward Stiles. "How are you, young man?"

"Displaced. Otherwise, I'm good."

"Dis...placed?"

"Whatever you did last night," Derek said by way of explanation. "It didn't heal Stiles, the way we thought it might. It somehow brought another one from another time and place to here."

"How do you know? He looks the same to me."

"He looks the same but he doesn't smell the same. You wouldn't know since you don't spend as much time around him as I do."

Turning back to Scott, Peter gave the boy a questioning look. "Could you tell the difference?"

"Yeah. Earlier in his room, I could tell right off he wasn't the real Stiles."

"Stop saying he's not real!" Derek started forward. "He's as real as you are!"

"Everybody, calm down!" Parrish said, walking into the center of the kitchen. "We have some questions about what's going on here."

"Why call me?" Peter asked, a half-smile on his sharp face. "All I did was cast a healing spell...or what I thought was a healing spell."

"Was the spell in Latin?" Lydia asked.

"It was an older dialect but it was Latin."

"Could you have mispronounced the word for heal?" She asked this while walking to the table. "What word did you use?"

"Alius."

Sitting down, she put her coffee cup on the table. "I think I know what happened." All eyes turned toward her as she stirred the dark liquid. She took a sip of the strong brew and looked up. "To make this a little easier, I'll go slow. First, sheriff, Derek, Scott and Peter are native to this reality. We'll start there."

Peter came to the table. After he sat down, Scott came over and sat down next to him. The man put a hand on the boy's leg and they exchanged glances. Derek slid both hands into his pockets to try and keep himself in check. Stiles stood a few feet away from him but he felt the tension. The sheriff afforded them both a long look before draining his coffee cup and turning to fill it again. Parrish didn't move from where he was.

"It seems like, to me, a lot of things were going on at the same time in four different realities," Lydia said, addressing everyone. "The reality we're in now, we'll call it number one. A traumatic event happened, Stiles' death at the hands of a really pissed off Lacrosse player. At the same time, in Parrish's reality, number two, Kate killed Stiles. In reality number three, I'm willing to bet nothing traumatic happened to Stiles, did it?"

"Number three, it's mine?"

Lydia smiled. "Yes. Way to keep up."

"Not to me, no...I mean, I'm standing here, aren't I? Kate managed to get away from Chris but killed Braedon before Parrish could stop her. Peter and Scott were fighting. Kira and Malia tried to stop Kate and she killed them."

"When Peter cast what he thought was a healing spell, what he really cast was one calling for _another_. Alius is the Latin word for _another_."

"Since he was touching Stiles," Derek said. "The spell must have brought you here."

"From the nearest reality where Stiles was still alive," Lydia nodded.

"You said four realities," the sheriff spoke up. "What's the fourth?"

"Mine," she said. "In my reality, I was nowhere near Stiles, as I stayed in Beacon Hills when they took their jaunt to Mexico. I was with Mason in a hallway and we were fighting a berserker - don't ask what that is, this whole thing is already too messed up."

"How did you get away from it?"

Lydia turned toward Stiles. "I thought I could take it out with a baseball bat. Turns out, it had a mean right swing of its own. Your dad, in my reality, saved our lives, mine and Mason's."

"Why weren't you in Mexico with us - uh, them?" Scott asked.

"The berserker was sent to Beacon Hills to distract me because I knew the others were trying to kill Scott. In my reality, everyone else went to save him. Malia, Kira, Liam, Derek, Braedon, Stiles, even you, Parrish. Only Mason and I and the sheriff were left behind."

Derek spoke up. "Who is Braedon? This makes twice I've heard the name."

"We thought she was a U.S. Marshall. Who she really was, I don't know but you were dating her."

"Get a load of you," Stiles said, punching him on the shoulder. "Hetero-wolf!"

Lydia spoke up again. "In my reality, you were dating Malia, after you dated me."

Derek punched back, sending Stiles stumbling.

Everyone smiled as the boy righted himself. Lydia took another drink of her cooling coffee. The sheriff refilled his cup and took a drink before it could cool. The stinging, burning stuff kept him from losing what frail hold he felt he had on reality. Parrish paced the length of the kitchen. He spoke when he was a few feet away from Derek.

"This Latin word, alius, is just vague enough to bring all of us here, at the same time. The power of the Dark Moon amplified the spell across all four realities, there's no other explanation."

"It is a powerful enough planetary alignment," Peter agreed. "It could bring all of these things to bear at the same time."

Scott spoke then. "Why?"

"We all have one thing in common."

"Stiles," Derek answered.

"I'm afraid of the answer to this question, deputy, but, what's your connection to my son, aside from being present at his death?"

"I wasn't present at his death, I just saw the aftermath, Scott bringing him out."

"Then, I repeat the question, what is the connection strong enough to bring you along?"

The man dropped his head, his eyes following the floor tile. He hesitated for a long few seconds before swallowing hard. "I...uh..."

"He was boning Stiles," Scott said, a smirk on his face. "Well, his Stiles."

The sheriff put the cup down on the counter, hard. "Is this true?"

Putting his hands up in front of himself, the deputy took a step back. "Hold on, sheriff...I wasn't boning him...all the time." Behind the man, Derek growled. Parrish stumbled and hit the wall, remaining on his feet. "On days I'd pick him up from school, we would drive out to the iron works, it's got the best view of the city at sunset...well, it does in California."

The sheriff sighed, turning away and bracing himself on the counter. "This is one of the most fucked up things I've ever heard in all of my life...and I'm Stiles' father! I've heard some very fucked up things in my life! This takes the mother-fucking cake!"

"Dad," Stiles said with a smirk. "Language."

"Shut the fuck up! I'm the parent, here, not you. I'm the parent in dire need of a drink after finding out his son was killed by a fucking Lacrosse player, jerked out of another dimension by a werewolf fucking my son's best friend while said werewolf's nephew, the werewolf fucking my son grieved over the loss of the man he loved! Meanwhile, in another reality, I save my son's ex-girlfriend and her friend from a crazy berserker! In yet another dimension, my deputy, who is also fucking my son, is present for his gruesome killing! Have I _fucking_ covered _mother-fucking_ everything?"

Everyone was quiet.

"Why were the two of you brought here?" Scott asked, looking at Lydia and Parrish. "I mean, I get your connection to Stiles but why were you brought here, to this dimension if you weren't anywhere near him in your own dimension?"

Peter answered. "To complete this dimension."

"What do you mean?"

Derek turned to Stiles. "Deputy Parrish was killed three months ago. Lydia died...in Eiken House."

Peter stood up and moved behind Scott, his hands on the boy's shoulders. "If the spell brought you here, and in your reality, both Lydia and Parrish were still alive, it had to correct this dimension. To make this correction, it brought them in."

"So, how do we fix this?"

"There might not be a way to fix this, deputy."

Lydia drank the rest of her coffee. Standing from the chair, she walked to the sink and put the cup in. She stood silent for a few minutes before turning back to Peter. Her tone was low and even, devoid of anger but dangerous.

"I know you all have lost someone special to you, but in my dimension, all of my friends are still alive. Scott, Liam, Mason, Malia, Kira and Stiles, they're all alive and I want to get back to them. You messed this all up by not being careful so you find a way to fix this and get me back to them or so help me, I'll make things very unpleasant for you."

"Stiles...goes nowhere," Derek said, fangs bared.

"Everyone calm down," Peter said, holding his hands up. "Give me some time and I can fix this. Now that we've hashed out what's going on, I can fix it."

Behind the alpha, Stiles started to say something. Derek turned, shooting him a look that told him to hold his comment. The man's heavy hand to his shoulder emphasized the silent command and the boy stopped talking.

"I mean what I said, Peter," Derek's voice was low and rumbling. "Bringing Stiles here might have saved his life in his reality so keeping him here keeps him alive. Don't fuck that up or I'll fuck you up!"

"What about you, deputy? No threats about what you'll do to me if I try and fix this?"

Parrish shook his head. "I'm not all that keen to go back, to tell you the truth. I get a second chance, here, but who knows what I go back to."

"Just know, if you stay, Stiles is off-limits," Derek snarled. "No sneaking off to the iron works or anywhere else after school."

"I second that," the sheriff said.

"Not a problem," Parrish told them both. "It was only possible because my sheriff started drinking and he didn't have anyone in his life, no father figure."

"Lydia and I should work on this together, just so we don't mess this up again."

She put both hands on her hips. "Good idea. Let's get going on that."

Coming around the table, Peter was followed by Scott. Lydia led them both out of the room and into the living room.

Parrish walked to the back door and stared out at the snow. His mind drifted out, into that falling white and away from where he was. He couldn't bear to think about what sort of fate might await him back where he was from. SO many things happened to him in the last few months. Seeing Stiles brought out of the temple ruin broke his heart and having to go back to such heartbreak wasn't something he looked forward to. If he stayed here, however, he would have a job - or he was hopeful he would. He'd have a chance to build something again, maybe not what he had before but something was better than nothing. Outside, the sun was a hazy white blob in a gray sky, sinking into the horizon. He felt very much the same way, sinking into an unknown horizon. In the glass of the door, he saw the sheriff, still facing away from the kitchen, gripping the sink. Beyond him, he could see only the broad outline of Derek Hale's powerful body. He'd made it quite clear, should he stay, Stiles would not be a part of his reason for staying. There were drawbacks to everything, he told himself.

With his back to the rest of the kitchen, Derek held Stiles. Their bodies were pressed chest to chest, the man's broad arms around the slender form of the boy. Stiles was folded into the embrace, his arms tucked into his chest, his head resting just under the man's chin. He didn't resist the protective stance, but took comfort from it. Breathing in the thick, heady scent of Derek, he noticed it was different than the Derek he knew. It was still thick and masculine but with a fringe of power his own Derek Hale didn't have. It made him feel safe. When the man's hand cradled the back of his head, he closed his eyes and breathed in the scent, pairing it in his mind with comfort and safety. The scent crowded out the memories of Mexico. Warmth from Derek's muscular body drove out the heat from Mexico.

Coming away from the sink, the sheriff refilled his coffee cup and added more sugar than the other two cups. He wouldn't be gulping this one down. With everything going on, he could savor this one. They were all going to have to hurry up and wait so he might as well enjoy this. Opting not to invade his son and Derek's time together, he walked over to the back door and put a hand on the deputy's shoulder. Standing alongside the man, he looked out, into the snow. They stood together for a long while, soaking in the silence of the room and the outside. The sun was going to set in a few hours. Looking through the glass, he noticed something strange about the sky.

"Do you see that?" He pointed to the right of the sun. "What is that?"

"It's what I've been telling you about. It's the final phase of the Dark Moon. If everything we've been talking about is true and Peter can do what he thinks he can, this will be his last chance to do it."

"No pressure."

***

Hours later, in the Stilinski living room, everyone sat in silence. A large circle of salt had been drawn on the floor. The doorways to the outside of the house were lined with the same. Lydia and Peter stood on the outside of the circle, staring at one another. Scott and the sheriff stood beside the doorway to the kitchen. Derek and Stiles stood on the other side. Parrish sat in a recliner, clenching and unclenching his hands, trying not to scream.

"All right, Stiles, step into the kitchen," Peter said, flexing his fingers. "Being outside of the spell zone should ensure your staying here. Deputy Parrish, if you'll do the same, in the hallway."

Standing, the man walked a few feet, crossed the salt line and held onto the doorframe, looking back into the living room. Peter stepped into the circle. On the other side of the room, Derek hugged Stiles before letting him step into the kitchen, over the salt line. Scott slid down into a sitting position, hugging his knees to his chest. Derek turned back just as Lydia was stepping into the circle.

"There won't be any bright lights or golden sparkles, just some internal pushing and pulling as this reality resets itself. The salt outline will keep this room isolated and the spell contained. Stiles and Parrish should be protected, keeping them here."

"Ready?" Peter asked, taking the girl's hands in his.

"Send me home, Glinda."

Peter began to speak. Derek recognized the beginning of the same spell from the lacrosse game. When he was certain it was the same one, he grabbed Scott by the front of what remained of his shirt. Scrambling, the boy was caught off-guard.

"Derek, what the hell?!"

With an angry combination of movements, the larger alpha brought Scott up off the floor and shoved him into the kitchen. Barring the door with his body, Derek turned toward Peter.

"Don't even think of screwing us," the alpha snarled, his fangs bared. "I figured you needed some added incentive! Now, you have something to lose, as well."

Not having stopped talking, Peter's eyes flashed bright blue but he didn't stop the spell. It took the better part of two minutes, much like the one he used the night before. When he finished, an invisible ripple passed through the living room. In front of Peter, Lydia closed her eyes and, like a whisper caught in a whirlwind, faded away. An even, enveloping silence settled over the living room and it, too, shifted. Small details, wrong before, righted themselves. Faces in pictures adjusted themselves, furniture grew more solid, colors brightened. Peter dropped his head and took in a breath.

"Did it work?" Parrish called from the hallway. "Is it safe to come back in?"

"Do you want to try it and see?" Peter gave the man a broad smile. "Be brave, deputy."

Without pause, the man stepped over the salt line. His skin tingled for a few moments and he seemed to shimmer for a moment, like a computer monitor resetting itself. Looking down at his hands, he flexed his fingers and released them.

"Feels weird."

"It's your body adjusting itself to this reality," Peter told him. "It might take a bit but considering how long you've already been here, not long."

Derek turned toward Stiles. He held out his hand. Scott passed through the doorway, going to where Peter embraced him. Stiles looked from Derek to the sheriff and down at his feet. He didn't move.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know," Stiles answered with a shake of his hand. "I still feel strange. How did I know the hospital number to Scott's room at Virginia Mercy? How did I even know about all that if I wasn't here when it happened?"

"You were here for that. You were just groggy. The doctor said everything with you leaning on me."

"Leaning...on you?"

Derek held out his other hand, opening his arms. "I'm always here for you to lean on."

Stiles took a step, then another. He came forward and crossed the salt line. His pale skin grew a shade brighter in a few seconds. Coming into Derek's large arms, he took hold of the man and breathed in his scent as those arms closed around him. Closing his eyes, he recalled the last of his memories, the burning building, Peter lunging at Kate and the big, black wolf with blue eyes dragging him. He survived in his own reality because Derek saved him. Holding tight to the man, he knew he'd survive in this reality because of the same reason.

"I know it's going to sound weird," Derek whispered in his ear. "I'm only saying it so you know you have someone here for you, to help you adjust. If you need it, I'll give you space. If you need me to, I'll crowd you. I'll do whatever you need...because I _love_ you."

"This morning, when you said I didn't look good and I smelled different, did you know?"

"I think I was trying to make sense of it, myself. I thought what Peter did worked so no, I didn't know, but my senses may have been trying to tell me. I did entertain the idea but maybe I didn't want to believe it. I wanted to believe you were...you know."

Stiles hugged tighter. "I can't say it back...but I like you, Derek...a lot."

Smiling, the man held on for a few more minutes. "You like me? I'll take it. We'll build on the rest."

When they parted, there was a solid knock on the door. Having nothing else to do, the sheriff went over and opened it. Outside, the snow continued to fall, lending a gray color to what remained of the day. Standing under a dark umbrella, a familiar redhead gave the man a wide smile.

"Lydia," he said, stepping aside. "Come in."

Shaking off the umbrella, the girl came inside. Seeing everyone standing around, she gave the sheriff a strange look. "Is...this a bad time?"

"Not at all," he said, closing the door. "What brings you out?"

"I think I left my keys on the counter," she said. "Is it all right if I go and get them?"

"Sure."

Peter spoke in a hushed tone to the others. "This reality is resetting itself. Our Lydia is back among the living...because her doppleganger brought her car here." 

With a nod, Lydia walked toward the kitchen. Pausing, she gave Stiles a long look. "There's something different about you. Did you cut your hair?"

"Uh...no. I, uh...well...I just...told my dad."

Lydia looked from the boy to the sheriff and back. "Told him what?"

"About my...boyfriend."

"Oh, you mean, Derek? Good for you."

"Wait, what? How did you know?"

"Anyone with eyes knows, Stiles, you just needed to be the one to say it."

With a nudge to Derek, who was smirking, Lydia left the room and went into the kitchen. It took her a few minutes to return to the living room, jingling her keys. She paused and gave the room a once-over. Parrish stood with his hands in his pockets. Peter and Scott sat next to each other on the sofa. The sheriff stood by the door, also with his hands in his pockets.

"Okay, now I'm starting to feel like I've stepped into an episode of the Twilight Zone. What is going on around here?"

Scott spoke up. "Lydia, do you ever remember it snowing in Beacon Hills before today?"

"Scott, it's snowed in Beacon Hills every years since we were kids. Why are you asking such a weird question? What is it with you all? Did Stiles' news really surprise you all that much?"

"Just a few strange things happening today," Scott responded. "Do you remember why you stopped by here? Why you left your keys?"

"I was checking on you, your mom said you were here so I came over. We just had coffee in your kitchen and talked about what happened at the Lacrosse game last night. I still can't believe those stupid guys and how hard they came down on you. They could have killed someone."

Derek's hand took hold of Stiles'.

"Anyway, you all don't be too hard on Stiles, Derek is a good guy. He's a little gruff, like the big bad wolf, but he's a good guy. Stiles could do worse...he could be dating the deputy."

With a broad smile, she walked toward the door of the living room. The sheriff opened it and she stepped out, opening the umbrella. On the step, she paused and turned back.

"If the snow keeps up, I'll be in to the station tomorrow to volunteer, if you need me."

"I'll see you there," he said. "Drive safe, Lydia."

Closing the door, the man faced the room. Everyone was looking at him. "I don't know about the rest of you but I'm starving. I have things in the kitchen and can start some spaghetti or we can call in, have food delivered and spend a snowed-in evening watching movies.

"I'll set the table," Scott said, standing and heading toward the kitchen.

"I'll help," Peter said, following.

Parrish walked toward the kitchen. "If it's all right, I'll ask them for directions on how to find the pot and start some water."

Derek and Stiles didn't move.

"You two have a minute?"

Stiles nodded.

"Just to be honest, I'm not wild about this...thing between you two. I'm not about to lose my shit over it and start hurling threats but I am going to address you both as a father. Derek, I'm trusting you with something more precious to me than life and if you fuck it up - in any way - I'll find the means to put your super-strong, supernatural, werewolf ass in the ground where you won't ever come back - are we clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"I can't tell you what to do with your body, son. You and Derek want to do it--"

"Don't say it, dad! Don't!"

"Doggie-style," the sheriff said with a broad, toothy grin.

Stiles grimaced. Derek smiled.

"That's up to you. I do ask the both of you to go easy. Take it slow, adjust to each other so you know when it's right. Don't rush into something you'll regret...there are other things you two can do with each other and if you don't know what those things are, surf the 'Net, educate yourself. Just go slow."

"Got it, dad. Message received."

"Good. I'm going in to start the sauce. When you guys are ready, I could use some help."

Walking by them both, the man nudged Derek in a playful way before going into the kitchen. Stiles shook his head, recalling the bad pun. He let himself be turned toward the alpha, brought in close and given a slow, warm kiss. Derek's hands cradled his face, caressed him with his thumbs and conveyed a deep sense of compassion and caring to him. The kiss was a beautiful statement, one Stiles understood.

"Can I ask you something? Two somethings, maybe three?"

"Ask whatever you want," Derek said, dropping his hands to Stiles' waist.

"Why are your eyes red in Alpha form and blue in wolf form?"

"It has to do with the eyesight being along a different spectrum in each form. It's chemistry."

"How did Peter know about all that magic stuff? Isn't he a werewolf?"

"Yes, he's a werewolf but he's also Peter. He's into a lot of weird shit, magic being one of them."

"Did we really have a three-way with Danny?"

"We had a three-way circle-jerk with Danny," Derek smiled another toothy smile. "You got your text, we all got off and we have a standing date for a repeat performance when he comes back to school in the spring...if you're up for it."

"You don't get jealous?"

Derek's smile faded and his expression was serious. "We don't play apart. We never do. The only time there's a third is when we're together and it's somebody we agree on."

"Good," Stiles said, letting out a long breath. "I like that rule."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Just one something?"

Derek nodded. "Are you all right about staying, about us?"

"That's two somethings...but yes, I'm all right staying. About us, it's a little more complicated. I've always liked you so that part's a done deal. The rest, the relationship thing, that's going to take some work. You're going to have to woo me, and not just any old wooing, I'm talking some serious romantic gestures. You can't rely on old fall-backs, either, things you did with the other me aren't going to cut it! I want new! I want original! I want _Star Wars_ Platinum Edition nine-disc Blu-Ray with fold-out, 32 page booklet special, buddy!"

"I think I can do that. I'm pretty damned good at wooing."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Damned right," Derek nuzzled the boy's neck. "I did it the first time, didn't I? What makes you think you can withstand the might of my wolfish wooing abilities any more than Mirror Universe Stiles could? Give it time, boy-o, I'll make you mine!"

Gathering the boy into his strong embrace, Derek bent his knees and when he came up, brought Stiles off the floor, hoisting him over his shoulder and carrying him into the kitchen. As they joined the others, snow continued to fall around the Stilinski house. In Beacon Hills, Virginia, on a cold night in early September, genuine Italian spaghetti sauce was made for a group of very hungry men. All of them gathered around a table for good food, good conversation and the beginning of what would be a collection of strong friendships.

Overhead...the Dark Moon rose.

-END-

Dedication:

 _For my own Derek, not a werewolf but just as warm and affectionate_.

 


End file.
